I’ve reached the state of sleepiness in which the brain is only tenuously connected to the body. My sleep for the past several nights has been disturbed for one reason or another, and I’m always of two minds about those experiences. No one enjoys being tired (I don’t think?), but I find that being ripped from my dreams, dragged mercilessly into the waking world as my dreaming mind reels from the shock, enables me to remember them better, and they’re usually doozies. I had some saga going the other night, in which I dreamed (among other things) that an acquaintance I hadn’t seen or thought of in a year or two suddenly featured prominently. He also went blind. Hope that one ain’t prophetic, for his sake and for the sake of the millions who had to throw themselves into the sea for some unspecified-yet-terribly-important reason.

In spite of being thoroughly exhausted, I couldn’t seem to nap today. I had just drifted off when someone blew their horn outside, and instantly I was 100% awake, and there was nothing I could do about it. Why is it that sometimes when you’re wakened in the middle of a dream, you just mumble, roll over, and fall right back asleep, and other times you feel as if sleep has been severed from you, like one of your limbs, and you’ll never get it back? You’re still exhausted, and you tell yourself to go back to sleep, but your body’s all, “SLEEP?! Are you MAD? Whatever just woke us up is no doubt a pack of ravenous velociraptors intent on ripping you limb from limb. We need to find the hand grenades and get the trip wires in place NOW!” (Firefox spell check doesn’t recognize “velociraptors” as a word? What the heck.) And by that point, of course, there is no point in attempting sleep any further. I can’t compete with velociraptors. No one can, really.

I had all sorts of cool things I was going to say, but instead I think I’ll go to bed and hope the dinosaurs harass you instead tonight.

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